Made Perfect in Weakness
by Sexy Scottish Accent
Summary: When the newly elected leader of Aquilaris becomes an assassination target, the Jedi must work quickly to uncover the mystery before something else can claim her life instead... Old Republic era
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well, it's finally here! I've been working on this story for about a month and a half, so I'm so happy that I've taken the first step in this journey. I'd like to dedicate this story to my aunt who also happens to be one of my best friends. Her disability is something like what my main character has, but not quite the same. I'm going to be putting a better description of her (my aunt) in my bio, so go there! Please read and review. I'd like to have your opinion.**

**NOTE: This has been re-written! Please tell me if you like it better.**

**Disclaimer: The universe belongs to The Great Flannelled One. These are my characters, and Marisaceans are a humanoid species of my creation.**

**------**

The votes were in, tallied, and ready to be announced. The crowd in the auditorium and the families sitting in front of their view screens at home anxiously awaited the announcement of Aquilaris' new Prime Minister. The candidates, Keelu Verasx, Stephen Molokai, Shanai-Rona Vagrés, and Varas Odai, were seated at the direct head of the gathering, the stress from the past few months easily visible upon their countenances. As the tension grew, becoming almost palpable, Varas turned her head slightly, her wavy white hair shimmering under the artificial lighting. With the corner of her mouth barely opened, she whispered to the woman next to her, "No matter what happens, we will still be friends, right?"

Shanai-Rona glanced over quickly, fleetingly, her green-gold eyes glinting, before responding with a sharp, "Of course."

The Marisacean allowed a small smile to grace her pale features. Varas had grown quite accustomed to the blunt responses and sharp remarks and retorts from Shanai ever since the beginning of the campaign, where they had become immediate friends. They would argue their hearts out at the debates, but behind the scenes, they could talk and laugh and be themselves. Now that the election was finally over, Varas wanted to be sure that she still had a friend in this woman. When it came to votes, everyone had predicted that Vagrés would win; she was the favorite of the reporters.

The chatter of the crowd began to gradually increase, and Varas looked up from her folded hands. A large man in elaborately decorated navy robes walked up the stage steps and towards the transparisteel podium. He raised a hand, and anxious silence soon blanketed the masses.

"It has been my great honor and pleasure," began the heavy-set man, his voice booming out over the volumeter, "to have been a part of this election. Let's give a big hand to our candidates."

The applause was like thunder and the photo-collector flashes were like lightning. _Now, _thought Varas with a slight quirk of her pink lips, _all we need is the rain._

"Now," the booming voice began again. "The moment we all have been waiting for."

As he pulled out the envelope, Varas was willing to bet that if a Jedi had been here and ignited his lightsaber, he would have been able to slice the air like a slab of bread.

"The new Prime Minister of Aquilaris is..."

All she could hear was the beating of her heart and her slow steady breathing. She saw his mouth moving, but nothing came out until he said, "...Varas Odai!"

The sound exploded back to her as the cheers erupted. Someone was leading her to the stage, but she wasn't sure who held her hand. Belatedly, she realized that she was expected to make a speech. As quickly as she could, she composed herself with a long, deep breath.

"My thanks to all of you. I have never been so surprised or pleased. I hope that I will make all of you proud. As the final Marisacean of Aquilaris, I will-"

Her impromptu speech was cut off by a blinding, numbing sear of pain, and that's when the screams began.

"She's been shot!"

"Call the medicenter!"

The words sped through her mind like the many pod races she'd seen on-planet, but it made no sense...until she looked down at her shimmering white dress. But it was no longer white; blood was seeping through the glittering material near her right hip.

"Oh," was the only word that escaped from her mouth before she collapsed on-stage, succumbing to the black abyss that enveloped her.

------

The first thing she saw was the white light. "Am I dead?"

A soft chuckle came from her right before a light tenor voice responded, "No. No, not quite."

She turned her head carefully, absent-mindedly noticing that she lay upon a medical bed. Standing next to her, carefully reapplying a bandage to her hip, was a kindly looking man, with graying hair and a twisted goatee. A pair of focal-correctors rested on the bridge of his nose, and his mouth was curved in a sad smile, as if he'd seen too many injuries, too many deaths, too many sicknesses, for one person to see in a lifetime. His hands worked quickly with many years of experience.

He pulled back the gauze carefully, and she gasped as a raw wound began to sting. The doctor delicately applied some bacta cream, and then resealed the wound. With tears in her eyes from the pain, she recalled what had happened. She remembered the shot, the pain, the screams.

"How long has it been since I was shot? The last thing I remember is collapsing onstage," she asked.

As he finished his work, he glanced up at her before saying quietly, "Only a couple of hours. It took me a little while to remove the poison. Somehow, the assassin was able to add Kouhun venom to the laser bolt. That's why you passed out so quickly on stage. It's amazing that you healed as quickly as you did. I'm just thankful that Marisaceans have the ability to block most of the harm that a poison can afflict. I'm glad you're alright."

"Thank you, sir."

"Irimore. Kenneth Irimore. Newly instituted Official Doctor of the Prime Minister," he said with a twinkle in his eyes, "and a doctor for nigh thirty years."

"Thank you, Doctor Irimore. It's very brave of you to take on such a disastrous job as Head Physician of the Prime Minister," she smiled. "Do you know if they caught the shooter?"

"I'm afraid not, your Excellency," he sighed. "Security guards found nothing on the holo-recorders, and the place was in such an uproar that they couldn't get any real investigating done. I do believe that General Absk Killdarn, the Head of Security, has called in a request to Coruscant for Jedi assistance; we've never had an assassination attempt in the immediate aftermath of an election."

"I see. Well, we can only hope that the presence of the Jedi will quicken the advent of a solution," she surmised.

A sad smile tugged at the corners of his wizened mouth, but Doctor Irimore said nothing more. Varas assumed that it was a piece of his personal life and that she should not interfere.

"Is...there anything else that needs to be patched up, or am I free to go? After I'm healed, of course."

The smile vanished from Kenneth's face, and he glanced around the room as if trying to buy some time. On an impulse, she reached to grab the elder man's hand, as if to say, 'You can tell me.' This seemed to give him the confidence he needed.

"Miss Odai," he began warily. "Do you know how your race became…endangered?"

"Yes," she murmured, the maturity beyond her twenty years showing in her silver eyes. "They all died from MNDS. My mother—" she paused, her voice catching with tears. "She was fine at first, but then she became...limited. She couldn't do anything: couldn't move, couldn't eat, nothing. I'm not sure how it works, but I know that it is fatal."

"MNDS," he recited, "or Muscular Neuro-Deficiency Syndrome, kills from the outside in. The muscles in the limbs, like your fingers, are the first to cease their function. Gradually, every muscle in the body becomes disabled. The heart is the last muscle to go."

"And…" she began, even though she had known the truth from the beginning, "I have it?"

A long silence followed, the hum of the medicenter machinery vaguely distant, somehow, as if from a dream.

"Yes. I'm so sorry."

More silence. It was only after the room with its many blinking light and charts became blurry that she realized there were tears in her eyes. Angrily, she brushed them away and took a shaky breath.

"Is there anything we can do…to prevent it?"

"The heart failure is inevitable. But I've been doing some research, and there is a solution to the muscular inability. I can implant neurochips inside your limbs and brain, but not your heart; the danger level is too high in there. I could accidentally knock an artery loose, or cut a vein. You would bleed to death. I'm not going to take that risk; we're going to keep you around as long as possible. But these chips will enable you to walk and move until…." He left the sentence hanging, unwilling to finish the thought.

"Until I die," Varas finished for him. "How long do I have?" All previous fear had vacated her voice and a grim determination had taken its place. She would not surrender her life to this condition.

"Five months…maybe six," diagnosed Irimore, his voice dull like an unsharpened knife.

Varas's mind was racing; she knew she was running a race she couldn't win, but by all higher powers, she would get as close to the finish line as she could. She looked up at the doctor, her eyes fierce, piercing.

"We have no time to lose, Doctor," a dangerous edge to her voice. "How soon can the operation take place?"

He hesitated for a brief second before replying, "Tomorrow morning at the earliest. I'll need to set up for the operation this afternoon and tonight, and then we'll be ready to start about…" he glanced at the chrono upon the white wall behind her, "7 tomorrow."

"Very well. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to have some time to myself…so I can think."

Kenneth gave a quiet nod of understanding before turning towards the door. As his hand reached to palm open the door, Varas remembered something.

"Doctor Irimore!" He paused, his back still facing her. "Don't tell anyone about this. I don't like the press knowing about my private affairs. Let them believe that it is only an assassination attempt. We can handle matters easier that way."

He smiled at her over his shoulder, sympathy, care and loyalty present in his whole demeanor. "Of course," he said, and he was gone, leaving the young ruler amid her wandering, mournful thoughts. Of one thing she was certain: there would be no sleep tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Greetings, fellow Star Wars fans! I'm terribly sorry about the long delay on this chapter, and I wish I had a better excuse than school and writer's block. But, alas, these are the usual excuses for a busy freshman just beginning her writing career. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Oh, and before I forget, Darren Jade is of no relation to Mara Jade. I thought it sounded cool, and Mara completely slipped mind. When I finally realized it, Darren Jade had planted himself so firmly in my mind that I couldn't bear to part with him.**

**-------**

With each arduous stroke of his muscled arms, the Padawan took in steady, even gulps of oxygen through his Aquatus A99 as the water flowed past and around his body. He was in a race against time to get to the bottom of the hundred-meter-deep pond. He glanced at his aqua-chrono: four minutes left of the twenty-five he'd been given. His arms lashed out in haste.

At the two-minute mark, the rocky, muddy pond-floor was in sight. About fifteen or so more pull-throughs—

Two blaring, short beeps sounded through the water, signaling the need to resurface. The Padawan grunted in half-hearted frustration. With a small twist of the leg, he turned to face the rim of the training aquarium. Within twenty minutes, he'd broken the surface of the water, managing to avoid colliding into the jagged rocks and entangling himself in the seaweeds. With his head now above the water, he removed his supply of oxygen and began swimming towards the ladder at the edge with small, conserved breaststroke pulls. As he pulled his body up the ladder, a pair of boots suddenly stopped in front of him. Subconsciously gulping, his gaze traveled up the tan-robed body until he saw the smirking face of his Jedi Master, Darren Jade.

"Dono Orono," the elder black-haired man rumbled, the emerald jewels for his eyes glinting with sarcastic amusement. He shook his head as a smile emerged, and Dono grimaced, understanding that he was not being reprimanded.

"Sorry, Master. The training arena was full, so I thought it might be a good time to work on my underwater endurance, seeing as I haven't been able to since the mission to Alderaan," explained Dono, his hair dripping into his brown eyes, giving him a comical appearance completed by his soaking clothes.

"Not to worry, my young Padawan. Dry off quickly, and meet me back at our quarters," instructed Darren, handing his apprentice a towel and a fresh set of traditional Jedi robes. "We have a Council meeting to get to."

-----

There were very few things that could cause anxiety within Dono Orono. He could keep his cool in a battle, and he could speak to an influential Senator without so much as stuttering. But if there was one thing that made him nervous, it was walking to Council meeting. The excitement of receiving a new mission would bubble a hundred times more vigorously than a spring from the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Each time he was called up for an assignment, he could barely find the will to calm down, so it was no surprise for him to hear his Master's kind but firm reprimand.

"Padawan, calm down. It's help neither of us, nor the Council, for that matter, if you can't concentrate long enough to get the briefing."

"Sorry, Master. I'm trying. You know how anxious I get before a Council Meeting."

Master Darren heaved a weary sigh. "Yes. Unfortunately. That's something we must work on. Patience. Serenity. Learn to live these, and then you will be at peace. It is easier to hear the will of the Force as such."

"Yes, Master," replied the Padawan.

Dono took a deep, soothing breath and began to siphon his turbulent emotions into the Force. By the time he was calm they had reached the Council doors, where a Padawan aide stood guard, stolid and unmoving. A blank look came over the boy's face as he alerted the Jedi Masters in the room beyond of the new arrivals. His eyes slid back into focus, and he nodded them in. They stepped forward and Dono palmed open the door.

The Council Chamber: that glorious, magnificent round room atop one of the five towering spires of the Jedi Temple, opening up to the industrious beauty of Coruscant. Twelve Masters were seated comfortably on twelve chairs mounted upon the cold stone floor. This room, filled to the brim with the quintessence of the Force, was hallowed as the birthplace of the Jedi Order.

The summoned Jedi stepped into the circular room, their footfalls echoing off of the stone floor. Bowing deeply, as was custom, Darren and Dono awaited the instructions for their mission. They were not hindered long; the deep rumble of Torin Terius, High Jedi Master, soon greeted them.

"Master Jade and Padawan Orono. Your new assignment is to take place on the planet Aquilaris," the elder humanoid began.

"Just a few hours ago, their newly elected Prime Minister, Varas Odai, was injured in an attempted assassination," continued Master Telana Kiarr, her shoulder-length blonde hair pulled back into a half-ponytail. "She is healing, but they require extra security."

The Jedi Masters exchanged a curious glance. Kruineph Novastar, a lanky humanoid with claw scars across his jaw, cleared his throat before continuing in a musical tenor, "What is very disturbing about this is the fact that Odai was shot almost literally right after her name was announced. She was up at the podium when she was fired upon, according to the head of security."

"Right after the election?" reiterated Darren, the incredulity evident in his tone.

"Yes," confirmed Master Terius. "Your job, along with increased security, is to uncover the identity of the assassin, or assassins, and arrest them."

"You are to leave in two hours. Gather what belongings you need, and be ready to leave in the Temple Hangars," directed Master Kiarr.

Master and Padawan bowed deeply, and after a blessing of the Force, they walked out of the Council Chamber. Silence in their wake, the two matched each other stride for stride, contemplating what they had just heard. As they reached the Temple elevator, Dono spared his Master a glance before breaking the silence.

"What does it mean, Master? Why would some one be shot minutes after an election?"

"You're right, it doesn't add up. Unless..." Master Jade drifted off, an idea almost visibly forming beneath his shoulder-length raven hair. He led the way off the elevator, making towards their quarters.

"Unless what, Master?" pressed Dono. Silence reigned for a few more minutes but for the echoing of boots in the corridor. _Click, clack, click, clack. _The two were so in synch, so focused, that their footsteps were as one single person. At the same time as they approached their door, Darren frowned deeply before announcing his thoughts.

"There could be...several possibilities," he began hesitantly. "The assassin could have rigged the election so they could then kill off Odai. But then that would lead into why they chose her, or why they were against her—from what I remember in reading about the election before today, there weren't very many views she was taking that would be easily opposed, per se."

Dono palmed open the door for his Master, rapt by Darren's progress. Master Jade was known for being a 'thinker' as well as a 'doer,' and the two combined together was a benefit in many situations. He had stopped many planets from breaking out into civil war, but if war was inevitable, he was most definitely able to hold his own in battle.

"But," he continued, pacing a circle around their table, "it could be that someone else didn't want her to win, and they paid the assassin off to kill her."

"But they failed to do so," finished Dono, catching onto Darren's train of thought. "Which means they may try to kill her again."

"Exactly." He paused for a moment, seemingly considering his options. Finally, he turned to Dono and articulated with slow precision, "Hand me a plaitfruit."

Dono quirked his lips and arched an eyebrow as he reached across the table for the bowl. The golden fruit shimmered under the fluorescent lighting, soaring until Darren snatched it deftly from the air. He nodded his thanks and sank his teeth into the fruit. The young Padawan, shaking his head in playful disbelief, stood up from the table and headed towards his room, preparing to pack. He could somehow sense that the approaching mission was going to be a difficult one.

------

"Master, we're coming out of hyperspace."

Darren shook himself out his doze as he heard the sound of his Padawan's slightly distorted Coruscanti accent coming through his commlink speaker. Rubbing his eyes slightly, he responded with a quick, "I'm on my way," and stood up slowly, so as to keep the blood from rushing from his head.

The trip had so far taken a total of three days, so he and Dono had decided to take shifts during the night cycles. Right now happened to be Dono's turn, and Darren had fallen asleep in his attempts to just doze. Twisting his neck with a slight crack, he stepped into the two-pilot cockpit. His Padawan was just tapping in the last calculations that would take them back into realspace. Taking his seat in the co-pilot's chair, Darren stared through the transparisteel viewport at the planet they were approaching.

"Beautiful," whispered Dono, voicing the very thought that was going through his own mind. While he knew that every planet that they had visited was beautiful, Darren couldn't help but think that the deep cerulean blue water of Aquilaris was breathtaking, even from this distance in space.

Inhaling deeply, he turned to Dono and said, "Well...there's Aquilaris for you."


	3. Hiatus

Okay, everybody, I'm really sorry about this. I have decided to put this story on hiatus, for multiple reasons. One, it really feels like I'm forcing myself to write this, and I can't work like that. I know it's only the second chapter, and I've barely gotten started, but this was just a random plot bunny that came and went. Another reason (since we're on the subject of plot bunnies), is that I was bitten a whole new, much-more-rabid bunny, and while it's still a work in progress, it will be a whole lot better than this stuff. I know that everybody hates it when someone doesn't finish a story; believe me when I say that this is killing me. I might come back to this, but I'm really not sure. Please, no hate mail on this.

Luv yous guyses!

S.S.A.


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